the A side - the Last Pair

Kidd watches as his last friend starts to drown - no longer able to keep treading water. He also sees that there might be more feelings than just the terrible loneliness clawing it's way in. Unfortunately, Killer is too drunk right now and Kidd would feel like he's taking advantage if he pushed him to have this conversation now. Kidd will just have to settle for getting his best friend home safety. Kidd - 18 in Reposed Rebellions

He's 18 and Killer is drunk, fighting Kidd as he tried to buckle the seat belt across his lap. They don't usually bother with the belts most days, but Killer is clingy and keeps clutching at Kidd, and he really doesn't want to worry about Killer grabbing him while he tries to drive the truck out of the bar parking lot before the fucks inside decided they want shit-talking, round two. He's only grateful Blueno called him as soon as Killer showed up. By the time Kidd walked to the single bar at the only light in 'town', Killer was shitfaced and only hadn't gotten his ass handed to him because the hicks inside he was sniping at were as drunk and uncoordinated as him. It used to be Killer, Heat and Wire at the bar, Kidd left behind like the highschooler he is.   Except, Heat and Wire finally got out, moving three hours away to a tiny one bedroom in the capital's downtown together. Some people talk, dark crude whispers, but most just shrug and know they wont be coming back. Most kids never get a foothold outside of this shit hole, but the ones that get out never even look back. They might have well died for all they are treated. The rest are doomed to repeat the cycle, trapped forever like Killer, living in a makeshift 'studio apartment' above his dad's garage. Kidd legally still lives with his mom, but crashes more nights with Killer on his crappy futon couch than anywhere else.   Killer's dad doesn't charge him rent, but anything they would have saved because of that goes to gas getting to town and back. Kidd's picked up a couple hours after class at a gas station near the lumber yard Killer works at, and it comes with a small discount that keeps them from spending all of Killer's paycheck every week. His mom still send him off with lunch when he bothers to show up to do laundry, and she's been packing a second one for Killer since Kidd started his senior year; her way of thanking her son's friend for still driving his ass around. Kidd never told her that he does most of the driving these days.   He just usually has Killer's help. He's got the truck started, the ancient tape player blasting out one of Heat's punk rock mixtapes he'd left behind, and Kidd is trying to figure out how he's gonna steer and shift at the same time.   Killer's giggling now, something he only does when he's high or drunk these days, and he grins at Kidd like a loon. "Keep it up chucklefuck," Kidd warns him, "It's gonna be your fault when I crash us into a ditch."   "You're not gonna craaash," Killer singsongs, then erupts into laughter like it's the funniest shit he's heard all day.   Kidd scowls, but then Killer leans against him, smothering his laughs into Kidd's good shoulder.   "I gotta drive us home, shithead, get off me."   Killer just laughs, a "nope" with an obnoxious pop on the p. His left hand runs along Kidd's thigh for a minute before he looks down at his hand, giggles, and then, grabs the stick-shift instead.   "Left foot to the clutch," he mumbles into Kidd's shoulder.   "This is the worse idea you've ever had," Kidd warns him, pushing in the clutch.   Killer looks up at him, bangs falling over his face, but not before Kidd catchs the blue eye shadow. Kidd notices the faint purple on his lips; he'd gone fancy tonight. Kidd thought he'd stopped wearing lipstick when Heat and Wire moved away. "I can think of worse ideas" Killer whispers.   Kidd stares, thoughts racing. "First gear, top left" he says finally.   His hand sweats against the wheel for a new reason as he pulls out of the parking lot. "Dun worry" Killer drunkenly mutters, "I gottcha"